


A Helping Hand

by TargaryenHeaven



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aunt/Nephew Incest, Cleaning the tag, F/M, Hand Jobs, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Public Hand Jobs, Smut, Winterfell feast, short and simple, straight to the point, targcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 20:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TargaryenHeaven/pseuds/TargaryenHeaven
Summary: Jon Snow knows it's wrong to want her. Jon Snow knows she's his aunt. Jon Snow knows he would gut the first person who'd dare to whisper a bad word about the dragon queen.What Jon Snow doesn't know, is how just the sight of the queen licking the wine off her lips managed to make his cock painfully hard.





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I love my incestuous Targaryen babies, so here's Dany giving Jon a hand job in the Great Hall. Short and simple. Straight to the point. 
> 
> Qhono is alive. Because he was hot.
> 
> Inspired by Kit's quote: “I really hope that he just nods slowly and goes, ‘Damned right’... something really horribly inappropriate, and you find out Jon’s had a really sick mind the whole time. That’s the way I’d love to play it. I’ll try it for one take, anyway."
> 
> But since D&D are cowards, this is OOC. Obviously.

Jon Snow loves his people. He loves his home. He really does.  
  
It's an exceptional sight, to see so many different people in one room. He knows they're celebrating life and their big victory. They would slit each other's throats if they had the chance, he knows that, too. But just tonight, he tells himself he will not think about the war and the conflicts. Tonight he will fall asleep with his belly full of wine and then he will worry about the secrets his brother Bran told him.  
  
However, the sight of her, the silver haired woman sitting next to him, _his_ queen and his kin inflames the indecent feelings he's trying to suppress and forget about. Jon Snow knows it's wrong to want her. Jon Snow knows she's his aunt. Jon Snow knows he would gut the first person who'd dare to whisper a bad word about the dragon queen.  
  
What Jon Snow doesn't know, is how just the sight of the queen licking the wine off her lips managed to make his cock painfully hard.

On his left side is his sister, the prude and naive redhead beauty with a stern look on her face and her icy blue eyes centered on the crowd in front of them.  
  
On his right is another woman who pays no attention to him, but he swears he can see her enticing lips curved into a seductive smile.

Careful not to seek any attention from his petulant sister, Jon moves closer to the woman he should be calling aunt. That's what she is, his aunt, isn't she? His biological father's little sister. His grandfather's daughter. He's pretty sure that's what it means. That's what he told her before the feast began. She's his aunt, and loving her would be wrong. Kissing her would be indecent. Touching her would be immoral.

And yet Jon Snow finds himself wondering why does he feel the sudden urge to bend her over the table and pound her until his seed is dripping out of her pretty wet cunt. He's not drunk. He's sane. But the animalistic urge to fill her is still there, waking his senses and making his body shudder with excitement.

After all, he was the one who repeated seven times that she's his aunt, there would've been an eighth, but she'd threatened to cut his tongue off if he repeated himself one more time.

_I bet she's slick down there. I bet she will keep fucking herself with her fingers tonight until the furs are wet. What if she takes one of her Dothraki bloodriders in her bed? She rode me like a horse. The Dothraki love horses. What if she likes the feeling of her new lover's cock inside her? No. I need to taste her. I want to-_

"My Lord?" He hears Dany calling for him. Only when he looks her in the eyes he notices they're narrowed, his hand is resting just under his belly and he's leaned way too close to her than some would consider appropriate. "Are you alright, _my lord?_"

"Sorry, " He murmurs, rubbings his thighs together. "I think I've had too much wine." Jon squirms in his seat, cleaning his throat.

"A bellyache, then? You haven't eaten much, _my Lord_, perhaps you should focus more on the plate in front of you. Your food seems to be... untouched."

"That's quite alright, your Grace. Perhaps I'll just retire to my chambers."

"Are you sure you don't need a helping hand? You seem to be in a lot of pain," Dany whispers slyly, eyeing the visible bulge in his pants, despite his gambeson covering the sensitive area.

Jon shifts uncomfortably in his seat. It's almost ironic, just two nights ago, after they had burned the bodies of the fallen soldiers, he told her he needs time, and she laughed at his face and told him that it is actually his Stark side telling him to pull away from her and his Targaryen side telling him to take her right there. Before he could utter another word, she left his room, smiling to herself victoriously, because despite his futile attempts to forget the feel of her bare skin on his, he wanted her.

"Perhaps you should ask one of Lord Manderly's granddaughters to help you? I'm certain one of them would be willing to... offer her services, don't you think, _sweet nephew_?" Dany looks him in the eyes, whispering the last two words dangerously close to his face.

_Sweet nephew._

He's sure she's doing that on purpose. No, he knows she's doing that on purpose. Driving him insane with her provocative attitude knowing his cock is hard for her and her only.

"Jon?" Sansa calls for him innocently. "Are you alright?"  
  
"He's alright, Lady Sansa. He's had too much to drink. We were just talking about how Lord Manderly's granddaughters would be very happy to get to know Lord Snow better."

"I suppose they would. They're decent ladies," Sansa replies. Sooner rather than later her attention shifts to a passing servant.

Jon shudders at the thought of Lord Manderly's granddaughters touching him. But if it's a game Dany wants to play, he's more than happy to oblige. "Should I go and talk to my future wife then, your Grace?" Jon turns to Dany. "But what would you do then? Who will walk you to your chambers?"

"Don't you worry about me, Lord Snow. I don't need a man to escort me to my chambers... but tonight we are celebrating life," she takes a sip of her wine. "Qhono fought well, and the night is beautiful. I think he deserves a reward. There is something about the Dothraki way, you know? So, you must forgive me, nephew, but I shall retire for the night," Dany tells him while looking at Qhono at the very end of the table. Just when she begins to raise to her feet, Jon's tight grip around her forearm forces her back to her seat.

Missandei, Grey Worm, Tyrion and Sansa all look at them. Dany clears her throat. "My Lord?" She asks him while staring at the crowd.

Jon doesn't say anything. He moves his chair closer to her. Pours her more wine. Looks around himself. Only when it feels like it's only the two of them again, he takes her small hand and guides it to his hard manhood, clasping her hand, letting her know just in how much pain he's in.

When she finally turns to him, she pulls away. "I must admit, I'm a little confused," she smirks. "If I remember correctly, you said-"

"I know what I said. It was a stupid thing to say. You're mine," he takes her hand again, squeezes it. "You're mine," Jon repeats. "And I want you."

"That's good to hear. Though I am sure wanting to fuck your own aunt wouldn't be approved by the noble lords."

"Let's go to my chambers and see if I care," he begins to pull away, but this time Dany is the one forcing him back to his chair.

"Sit down, Jon Snow," she tells him gracefully. "Come closer."

Side by side, Jon and Dany watch as the audience in front of them starts cheering for the sound of the instruments and the soft voice singing beautiful words in sync with the melody. Dany's fingers brush against his covered cock, a feather touch to tease him and prepare him for what's to come. Lady Sansa is watching in awe as the captivating male voice is fascinating the audience, Lord Tyrion is now with his brother and everyone else seems to be enjoying the atmosphere.

Jon feels Dany's fingers unbuttoning a single black button under his navel, he takes a deep breath when her tiny fingers wrap around his erection. His eyes roll back, it's been too long since she's touched him, it's been too long since his cock was worshiped by this breathtaking woman next to him.

Many times he tried to pleasure himself the way Dany pleasures him. Many times he tried to massage the head of his cock the way Dany does, to touch the right spots and apply the right amount of pressure on his shaft, but he'd just end up furiously pumping himself, chasing his release.  
  
"_Yeah..._" he whispers silently when she begins moving her hand, pulling the soft skin of his cock up and down.  
  
"What changed?" She whispers before moving her hand lower and squeezing his balls.  
  
"_I-_" Jon winces. "_Gods_, I missed you."

"Missed me?" Dany mocks him, giving his cock more attention, pumping him faster and looking over his shoulder, checking if anyone would dare to look at them while she's shamelessly touching him under the great table. "Just two nights ago you seemed to be repulsed by me."

"_I wasn't-_ I wasn't repulsed," he clears his throat. "I needed time to- _think._"

When Dany's piercing blue eyes look at his dark ones, Jon feels his muscles tensing. Dany bites her rosy lip, just when he leans forward her fingers tease the head of his cock, her fingertips brush against the slit and Jon feels his balls begin to tighten.

"_Dany..._" Jon warns her. "_Let's get out of here,_" he begs under his breath.

"Are you close?" She smiles coyly at him. Jon nods, clenching his jaw. "Would you like to finish inside me?"

"_Ye-s_," he helplessly says, trying to push her hand away.

"No," Dany simply says, tucking his swollen cock back into his trousers. Jon rubs his thighs together, trying to relieve the ache, but Dany's hand quickly finds its way back to his manhood and begins rubbing him through his clothes. "Come for me, right here," she urges him, her small hand savagely stroking him through the offending material.

She's absolutely sure her advisers and Lady Sansa can positively say what's going on under the table, if their flushed cheeks and faces hidden behind wine cups are any indication, but Dany doesn't care, neither does Jon, his cheeks are red, a trickle of sweat falls from his forehead onto his lap.

Dany leans closer to him, just for a brief moment before the lords can register it, her breath hot on his skin. "Give me your seed, _nephew_."

_Nephew._

That's all it takes for Jon to let go. He closes his eyes, feels as his cock is pulsating in a tight prison while Dany's stroking the underside of his throbbing shaft, prolonging the feeling of pure bliss. In a sudden rush of pleasure, he lets out a moan, drawing more attention to himself and the queen. He immediately jumps to his feet, Dany after him, rubbing his shoulder, giving the naive lords her best performance.

"I'm afraid Lord Snow is not feeling well," Dany politely informs them as Jon is adjusting the gambeson over his crotch, taking deep breaths, his shaky legs barely supporting his weight.

"Had too much to drink, Crow?" Tormund laughs, pouring more milk over his beard.  
  
"Do you need someone to... um, walk you to your chambers?" Lady Sansa kindly asks, avoiding eye contact with her brother and the queen.  
  
"I will walk Lord Snow to his chambers, make sure he gets there safely," Dany says out loud. "I will be retiring for the night, but please, enjoy the feast. You deserve it," Dany smiles for the last time before linking her arm with Jon's. She doesn't have to look at anyone to know they're probably whispering all kinds of insults but frankly, she doesn't care.  
  
"Quite a performance," Jon grins. "No one believed you. Not even Sansa."  
  
"Smile and nod, Jon," Dany bites her lip. "Smile and nod."  
  
When the music from the great hall is just a faint melody and the darkness of the wide halls completely swallows them, Jon grabs Dany by the waist, pinning her against the stone wall. "So now what, Your Grace?"  
  
"Now..." Dany pulls his cock out. "You're going to fuck me like a dragonwolf you are."


End file.
